Nick Cleveland and the Pig in a Wig
by Technomad
Summary: Most of Harry Potter's schoolmates don't know much about his home life. A Machiavellian Ravenclaw finds out inadvertently---and gets upset enough to try to do something about it. Set in J.L. Matthews' "Slytherin Rising" continuity.


Nick Cleveland and the Pig In A Wig

By Technomad

It all started, Luella Martin thought, on a typical day at Hogwarts. She was in the library, going through some journals for an essay she had to write for fifth-year Transfiguration, when she heard an odd noise---almost a growl. Looking up, she found herself staring into a familiar pair of cold grey eyes. Nick Cleveland was looking at her, and he didn't look pleased.

"Uh---what's wrong?" she asked nervously. While she and her friends had made a peace with Nick Cleveland, not to mention his formidable, hot-tempered girlfriend Melinda Yang, she knew that if he were riled enough, he was quite capable of forgetting that any such thing had ever happened. Nick looked at her, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Oh, nothing to do with you, Luella. It's just that I received a new book in the mail today, and I'm sure I had it here, but when I looked up for it, it was nowhere to be found." He looked across the room, his eyes lit up and he smiled a rather predatory smile. Luella followed his gaze, and felt a cold chill running down her back. Nick was staring at Hermione Granger with an expression like a hungry tiger watching a deer. Oblivious, Hermione was looking through a large, impressive tome.

Nick winked at Luella, reassuring her slightly, as he arose and catfooted over to where Hermione was sitting, standing just behind her, but so quiet that she didn't know he was there. Luella could see what he was up to, and her wish to warn Hermione warred with her curiosity as to how long this situation would last.

For several minutes, things hung in the balance, as Hermione read on, while Nick contemplated her from a few inches behind her. Finally, Nick smiled rather grimly, and purred: "I do hope you're enjoying my book, whoever you are."

Hermione jumped and gave a squeak of surprise, looking around wide-eyed to find herself confronted with a sixth-year---and, worse, a sixth-year who looked none too pleased. "Oh---is this your book? I didn't know!"

"Check the flyleaf," Nick explained. Blushing, Hermione turned to the front flyleaf and read it.

"Oh, dear! This _is_ your book! That inscription is from your mum!" Then the other shoe dropped. "And you're Nick Cleveland, aren't you?"

Nick grinned, less nastily than he had earlier. "Yes. I've been Nick Cleveland all my life---I'm quite used to it. You needn't act quite so much like it's a surprise." He held out his hand, and Hermione shook it automatically. "I've not had the pleasure of meeting you before. Your name is---?"

"Hermione Granger. I'm in Gryffindor."

"Ah---I've heard about you. It may amuse you to know that some of my housemates---I'm a Ravenclaw, as you can see---" Nick pointed to his blue-and-bronze sash---"think the Hat made a mistake, Sorting you into Gryffindor. From what I've heard from my housemates in your year, you'd have done well as one of us."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, the Hat did offer me Ravenclaw, but I'd read all the prospectuses and things they send Muggle-born students, and I'd set my heart on Gryffindor."

At this point, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley came in; Ron, at least, looked less than pleased to see Hermione talking so easily with a strange guy. Luella tried to catch his eye and warn him off; the Gryffindor was not known for his tact, and she knew that if Ron offended Nick, vengeance would be on the way, padding along after him on silent feet until the moment of Nick's choosing arrived.

Hermione also saw Ron's flash of jealousy, and hurried to make introductions. "Harry, Ron---this is a new friend of mine." Luella watched Nick's face, and felt relieved to see that he did not react negatively to being introduced as a friend of Hermione's. "Nick Cleveland, I'd like you to meet my best friends, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter."

At the mention of Nick's name, the boys' eyes went wide. "Nick Cleveland? I've heard of you!" gasped Ron. "You're in _Modern Broomflight Accomplishments_!" Rooting through his bookbag, he came out with a battered book with a picture of a wizard on a broom on the cover. "Right here! See?"

Nick smiled ruefully. "Yes---I remember that book. The authors took most of their facts from that bloody Rita Skeeter, and she only aked me about three questions before Dumbledore threw her out of the castle for being a rude, obnoxious bad example to us." Taking the book, he began paging through. "Ah, yes. Miss Skeeter does have a _vivid _imagination. She never figured out how lucky she was."

"How was she lucky?" asked Harry.

"Well---the way she dragged me off, Melinda---she's my girlfriend, everybody in this place knows more-or-less who she is---was half-certain she meant to, shall we say, have her wicked way with me." Nick grinned a very male grin. "Dumbledore hauled me out of there about a minute or so before she'd have charged in, red in tooth and claw, to tear Rita Skeeter's face off."

Luella suppressed a smile. She knew Melinda, and knew that the Chinese girl was quite well capable of everything Nick had claimed, and a great deal more. For a second, the idea of setting Melinda on inconvenient people by convincing her that those people were chasing Nick seemed attractive. Then she remembered the close call Marlie Lovegood had had after she _had_ been chasing Nick, and shuddered, banishing the idea from her mind.

"Would you give us your own account of what you did?" asked Hermione.

Nick looked thoughtful. "Well, I _could_…but at a price. Did you know that my mum knew your mum, back when they were in Slytherin together, Harry?" Harry's eyes went wide, and he shook his head. "Ever since you came here, Mum's been wanting to know how you're doing. I'll Tell All about my broom flights, but only on condition that you tell me enough about your life to keep Mum off my ear about that." He held up a finger, as Harry opened his mouth. "To sweeten the pot, I'll get Mum to send me copies of her pictures from her school days that have your mother in them, for you. Deal?"

"Deal!" Harry stuck out his hand, and they shook, sealing the deal.

A few days later, a pair of owls flew into the Great Hall during breakfast, depositing a large package in front of Nick Cleveland. He turned to Melinda with a smile. "It's those pictures, sure as I'm born!" he said. "After brekkers, let's go look up Harry and tell him that I have his pictures!"

As it happened, Harry spotted them leaving the Hall with a package, and came up, his eyes wide. "Nick! Is that---?"

"Sure is, Harry. When I owled Mum that you wanted copies of her old school pictures, she sent them along practically by return owl, along with---what's this? A long letter---and it's addressed to _you_!" With a flourish, he handed Harry a large folded piece of parchment.

"Can I read it?" Harry asked. Nick gave him a look suitable for dealing with slightly half-witted people.

"Well, _duh_, of course you can! It's for you, after all!" Nick pulled out another sheet of parchment. "This one's for me." He scanned it rapidly. "Hmmm---nothing urgent here. Mum's glad I made contact with you, though."

Harry was reading his letter. "Oh---your mum really liked my mum! She says: 'Lily Evans was one of my favourite people in her year. She was smart---she earned wonderful grades, which pleased me greatly---and she took no snuff from _anybody_ about her ancestry. Too many people in Slytherin put too much stock in being "pure-blooded," which always struck me as foolish. Your mum always called the ones who thought that way "the turnips," because, like turnips, the best part of them was underground.'" Harry smiled. "I must remember that line, and use it the next time I hear the word 'Mudblood!'"

Nick was opening the package. "Sure enough, here are the pictures. Mum was quite the shutterbug in her day; I remember a lot of these from her album." He handed an eager Harry the pictures. "Okay, Harry. Fair dos now. Class is coming up soon, but I want you to meet up with me this evening and give me a run-down on 'The Life And Times of Harry Potter, Boy Wizard of Gryffindor.' If nothing else, it'll give me a better perspective on the rumours about you that I hear in this stone madhouse."

"Okay, I'll do that. Can I bring my friends?" Nick nodded.

"'Course you can. I'd be interested in their perspectives."

That evening, Luella saw Nick sitting in a corner of the Great Hall, watching as a quill scratched busily away on a piece of parchment. "What are you doing, Nick?" she asked. Nick was known for his inventive streak, and this looked like something interesting.

Nick looked up, and the quill stopped. "Oh, hi, Luella. You've heard of the Quick-Quotes and Dicta-Quill, haven't you?" She nodded, and he continued: "This is something I'm trying to make work, sort of a derivation of a Dicta-Quill that works just by people thinking at it. Here---" he pushed the quill and parchment over to her---"give it a go."

Skeptical, but willing to go along, Luella thought at the quill, and it began to write: "Of all the silly, lazy---hey, this thing works! Oh my God, when people see this---" Her eyes widening, she handed the quill and parchment back to Nick. "You really have something there, Nick! This thing ought to make your fortune, if you don't make a packet with those fancy brooms you build!"

Just then, three Gryffindors appeared, bright-eyed and eager. Hermione and Harry both greeted Luella affectionately; the Slytherin girl had been kind to Hermione when she was friendless in her first year, and Luella was close to Harry in some special ways, as well as being from the same small town. Ron Weasley held back; although he had managed to patch things up with Luella after getting her wrongly expelled in her fourth year, there was still a distance between them, and probably always would be_. And serve him bloody well right,_ Luella thought. Even now the memory of the day she had been expelled was painful.

"So---" Nick sat back as Harry and his friends arranged themselves around him. ---"where shall we begin? I know that you live with your aunt and uncle, Harry. What are they like?" Harry settled down and began to talk, and Luella arose to leave, with a soft scratching noise in her ears.

A couple of days later, Luella was walking along toward the prefects' common room, when she found herself swarmed by Melinda Yang. The Chinese girl looked absolutely terrified.

"Oh, Kwan Yin be thanked, I found you! Please---I know you hate me, but this is an emergency---please, help me find Deanna Tyler! I need to talk to her _right now_!"

"What's the matter?" Luella didn't scare easily, but seeing Melinda Yang look that frightened did worry her. "Why do you need Deanna?"

"I need her to Floo her mum! Oh, please, _please hurry_!" Luella was horrified to see tears in the Ravenclaw girl's eyes. Melinda Yang almost never cried. "_**Hurry**_!"

Grabbing Melinda by the hand, Luella ran for the prefects' common room. At the door, she let the Ravenclaw go. "You don't need to go in. She's in here." Turning to the door, she whispered the password, and stepped on in. Deanna Tyler's black eyes went wide as Luella grabbed her by the arm. "Deanna, Melinda Yang's outside. She says she needs to have you Floo Caitlin."

"Why are you acting like that's a big deal?" drawled Deanna. "Since when am I Melinda Yang's personal house-elf, anyway?"

Luella stared into Deanna's eyes, and the other girl looked away. "Deanna, I swear to you on the Great Serpent itself that this is some sort of an emergency! I've never seen Yang so frightened---come to it, I've never seen her show fear at all! Something or other's really, really wrong!"

"As if we didn't have enough to worry us, with Sirius bloody Black flapping around the countryside, free as a stray dog," grumbled Deanna, as she rose to go out. "Still and all, duty calls, and I suppose I'd better see what's tied her knickers in a knot."

When Deanna appeared, Melinda grabbed her like a drowning woman clutching a floating log. "Deanna, please, please, Floo your mum! We're wasting time! We have to get ahold of her, right now!"

"Why is that?" Now Deanna was definitely curious; Melinda was almost always controlled, unless her temper had taken control of her, and that was very different from what she was seeing now.

The Chinese girl's eyes were huge. "It's Nick---he's run mad! He flew out of here a few hours ago, and I think he's headed to Little Whinging! He said something about 'sorting those Muggles out, once and for all,' and---and I've never seen him act like this! Oh, please hurry!"

Watching this, Luella was getting more worried by the minute. Whatever Melinda Yang's faults, deviousness was not among them; the Ravenclaw girl was as straightforward as any Gryffindor. Melinda was no actress, and she looked honestly terrified. Deanna had obviously come to the same conclusion, as she pointed down the hall, toward a room that had a Floo-connected fireplace. All three girls began to run.

Caitlin Tyler was pacing up and down, nervous and agitated. A few hours earlier, she had been sitting in her living room when the Floo suddenly sprang to life, and Deanna's face appeared amid the flames.

"Mum? Are you there?"

"Of course I am, darling! What's the matter? Is something wrong? Has Sirius Black been up at Hogwarts?"

"No, of course not! What would Black be doing within a hundred miles of this place? With those bloody Dementors around, it's like _Colditz_, but without the laughs! It's Nick Cleveland!" This caught Caitlin's attention instantly. She had known Nick's mother when they had been at Hogwarts, and had met Nick himself on a few occasions. She privately agreed with her daughter's housemates that the Sorting Hat had erred in Sorting Nick---she had been hugely amused by tales of his devious streak, and planned to make him a job offer upon his leaving Hogwarts.

"Nick? What's he done this time?" Caitlin braced herself. Nick was a master of the unexpected. His mother had laughingly warned Caitlin that when dealing with her son, "it's a good idea, love, to count your fingers---then your toes---then your relatives. And then count them again. I love my son, don't get me wrong, but he's tricky."

When Deanna had explained the situation, Caitlin had been gobsmacked. "You mean to tell me that Nick's not only skived out of school, but is heading _here_---to _Little Whinging-_--on his _broom_---to _beat up the Dursleys_?" Virtuously, she had fought down the temptation to respond with "And this is a problem _how_?" Instead, she had placed wards in the sky, so that any magical flight would set off alarms, and alerted the Floo so that any arrivals in Little Whinging would be reported to her. While she loathed the Dursleys, she didn't want to see Nick get into trouble with the authorities---magical or Muggle.

She was sitting back with a cup of tea---she had a fair idea of how fast a broom, even one of Nick Cleveland's experimental specials, could travel, and it was still an hour or so before he could fly there---when her mother's spirit, which she had set to keep an eye on the Dursleys, suddenly shouted: "He's _here_! He's in the alley---and he's cornered Dudley Dursley!"

_How in HELL did that sneaky sod get down here so quickly?_ Caitlin wondered about that, but there was no time to waste. Throwing her teacup toward the overflowing sink, she ran out the back toward the alley, cursing all Ravenclaws under her breath.

At first, she couldn't find him, and she looked around frantically, wondering where he could be and whether her mother's spirit had managed to get things wrong. Then she heard a low, calm voice, and she knew it instantly.

Nick Cleveland had indeed cornered Dudley Dursley. The Muggle boy was whimpering, cowering into the corner of a fence, as Nick purred: "So---you beat up on littler kids, and _your own cousin_, your _own flesh and blood_, because you think it's 'fun,' do you?" The Ravenclaw smiled ominously. "You know, I can see your point. That does look like fun. It looks like _so much_ fun, I think I'll try it out myself---and lucky me, you're right here and younger than I am!" With a vicious snarl, Nick lashed out with his fists, sending Dudley's head rocking back on its hinges, and then kicked him in his prominent belly, sending him to the ground with a howl of pain. Instantly, Nick was on him like a cat on a mouse, punching his face and torso with every ounce of strength in his body.

For a few seconds, good and evil warred in Caitlin's soul. The bad side wanted to sit back and watch Nick teaching Dudley Dursley a long-overdue lesson; the good side was appalled to see anybody, even Dudley Dursley, beaten so severely. The crack of a bone breaking, as Nick grabbed one of Dudley's arms and twisted it, snapped her out of her indecision, and she stepped forward. "Stop it! Right now! I mean it! Stop!"

Nick looked up, seeing her for the first time, and she shivered. The Ravenclaw's cold empty stare was more terrifying than a werewolf's bestial snarl. Then his face twisted into a cold, cold smile. "Why, hullo, Mrs. Tyler! Whatever brings you here? Small world, isn't it?" He rose up, gesturing toward Dudley hospitably. "Would you like a go? My mum'd skin me alive and roll me in itching powder if I didn't offer to share, after all."

Caitlin drew her wand. "No, I'm not going to hurt him, and neither are you! You leave him alone and come along with me, young man---you're in a lot of trouble!" She expected Nick to surrender; most people did when she had her wand out. Failing that, she expected him to draw his own wand. She did not expect the response she received, which was a theatrical yawn.

"If you aren't going to help me chastise this lump of filth, then go find something else to do. Go _burn water_, or something like that!" Turning back to Dudley, Nick delivered a hard kick to the Muggle boy's side, and Caitlin thought she could hear ribs breaking.

Caitlin felt a fury growing inside her. To be dismissed so casually by a boy nearly young enough to be her son, as though she was a person of no consequence rather than the most feared Auror on the force---it was intolerable! She let fly with a _Petrificus Totalus_, only to be utterly shocked when the spell seemed to slide off without affecting the Ravenclaw. She held up her wand, staring at it. How had her faithful wand betrayed her?

Nick grinned a death's-head grin at her, as he kicked Dudley---the Muggle boy seemed to have lost consciousness, a minor mercy---and sneered: "Your spells are all wet tonight, Mrs. Tyler! Are you losing your touch?" His grin grew broader. "Or are you all mouth and no muscle, like this piece of rancid blubber here?"

That taunt drove Caitlin over the edge. She tried another Petrification spell, then a _Locomotor Mortis_, and even an _Imperius_, without any success. The spells were well-aimed, but seemed to not be hitting the Ravenclaw, who leered mockingly at her, not making a move to defend himself. When she paused, he spat theatrically on the ground.

That did it. Sheathing her wand, she threw herself at Nick, figuring that even if he had some way to stop spells, he'd not be able to handle her in a hand-to-hand confrontation. Nick saw her coming, and shifted his feet to adjust his stance, the light of battle in his icy grey eyes.

Staggering, Caitlin stepped into her kitchen, looking for the first-aid kit. She had deposited an unconscious Nick Cleveland on the sofa in her living room, and given her ancestral spirits strict orders to alert her if he so much as twitched. He had put up a ferocious, and unexpectedly skilful, fight, and she also knew that he was as tricky as they came. While she thought he was out cold, and he hadn't shown any signs that he was playing 'possum, Caitlin wasn't going to take any unnecessary chances.

Once she had staunched her nosebleed, Caitlin dared to look into a mirror. She looked like she'd been dragged behind a lorry; her hair was in wild disarray, she was showing the beginnings of a couple of black eyes, and her face was smeared with mud. She ached all over, and thought that she might have cracked a couple of ribs. One of her wrists twinged every time she moved her hand, and it felt like she'd twisted her ankle.

_I need a Healer---and a Healer who'll keep __quiet__ about this!_ The last thing Caitlin wanted was to have to explain to a strange Healer just how she'd been so dinged up. Her reputation for invincibility saved her a great deal of work, and she definitely didn't want to have to reestablish it. _A __Gryffindor__ would own up to things, and boldly face the music. Good job I'm a Slytherin!_ And that thought led her to a name. A Healer she could trust implicitly, who would fix her---and Nick---up and keep his mouth shut tight. She went over to the Floo, and threw some powder in, snapping "Severus Snape!"

Snape's face appeared in the flames, with Deanna beside him. The Potions Master gasped at the sight of Caitlin's injuries. Less restrained, Deanna cried: "Mum! What happened? Did you chase him on a broom and fall off?"

"No, dear. I caught him beating ten bells out of Dudley Dursley, out in the alley behind our house. He didn't want to come along quietly, and, for some reason, my spells wouldn't work on him! I had to take him down hand-to-hand, and he's a lot better martial artist than most wizards!"

Deanna looked exasperated. "Well, _duh_, Mum! He's been sparring with Melinda Yang since they were twelve years old! Melinda's Shaolin-trained---she started practically as soon as she could toddle. When she hooked up with Nick, she soon had him working with her, and he improved, in self-defense. I don't know just where he'd rank, but I've seen him sparring, and he's well up there."

"Well, as you can see, I need a Healer. Severus, can you come through? You can bring Deanna along, if you'd like. I think she'd be reassured to see that I'm all right."

"I shall do so. Miss Yang is also here; she's nearly in hysterics. May she come as well?" Snape grinned rather evilly. "Between you and me, I don't envy Mr. Cleveland when she catches up to him."

Caitlin grinned right back. "I don't envy him right now. He dinged me up, but you should see him!"" She stood back as the fire flared up and Severus Snape stepped through, followed by Deanna. A few seconds later, and Melinda Yang burst from the flames, looking around wildly. She had a very ominous expression on her face.

"Where is he?" the Chinese girl snarled. "When I get my hands on him---_oooh!_ How dare he blow out of school like that? I've been worried sick!"

Caitlin pointed to the living room. "He's in there, dear."

As Melinda disappeared in the direction Caitlin had pointed out, Deanna turned to her mother, her face paling. "Uh---Mum---are you sure that's a good idea? You said Nick's hurt. Can he defend himself?"

Caitlin opened her mouth to answer, when a hideous shriek of anguish and rage shook the house. _Oh, gods and goddesses, I didn't mean to set __her __on him,_ ran through her mind as she raced for the living room, Snape and Deanna behind her, hoping to be in time to prevent Nick's murder.

Nick was lying, eyes closed, face smeared with blood, on the sofa, as Melinda clung to him, weeping silently, a picture of anguish. At the sound of their footsteps, she looked up, and fixed Caitlin with such a terrible glare that Caitlin, no stranger to danger, instinctively stepped back, wishing she hadn't left her wand in the kitchen.

"You---_hurt---him_…" hissed Melinda, her mouth twisting with hatred. "You _gwai-po __filth_, you _hurt_ him!" Stepping forward, smiling like a hungry shark, the Chinese girl began flexing her fingers, and sparks began to fly from them as ornaments began to shatter. "And I'm going to _rip your face off on my way to your brain_!" The last came out in a full-throated shriek.

_Oh gods and goddesses help me now_! Caitlin had known that Melinda could be dangerous when angry, but even her daughter's vivid descriptions of what the Ravenclaw girl could do paled before the reality. Beside her, she heard Deanna whimper "Gods, I've never seen her in such a state!"

Melinda poised to spring at Caitlin, and time seemed to slow, until a voice startled everybody.

**"**_**Stop!"**_

Nick had apparently recovered consciousness, and was sitting up, heedless of the blood on his face, hands and clothes. Melinda whirled, her eyes widening at the sight of her boyfriend glaring at her, holding his hand to his forehead to staunch the bleeding from a cut there. "You stop that right this instant, Melinda! Do you hear me?" Melinda opened her mouth, but Nick bore over her: "If you lay _one finger_ on _anybody_ in this house other than in friendship and love---we're through _forever_! I'll _dump you for good!_ Do you understand?" Cornered, battered and alone though he was, Nick's voice rang with authority, and Caitlin didn't doubt that he meant every word he said.

Neither, (_thank all the gods_) did Melinda. She stared at him, the fury draining out of her, then she ran to him, burying her face in his shoulder and howling her heart out. Nick looked up and gave Caitlin and the others a _give-us-a-little-privacy_ look, and patted Melinda, murmuring soothingly to her. Caitlin herded Severus and Deanna back to the kitchen to give them some time alone.

After a few minutes, a greatly chastened Melinda appeared. "This person wishes to apologise, Mrs. Tyler. This person understands that you had to do what you did." She bowed from the waist.

Deanna smiled. "She only talks like that when she's really, really penitent." Snape looked up from where he was watching Caitlin's reaction to the Healing Potion he had given her. "I think you can go see to Nick now, Professor."

Snape stood over Nick as he drank the healing potion off. "That should put you to rights, Mr. Cleveland. I must say, Mrs. Tyler did some damage to you." He went on, shaking his head. "Three broken ribs, a black eye, a cracked wrist, a dislocated arm, bruises all over, the teeth on the left side of your mouth all loose, and cuts and scrapes from one end to the other!"

Nick grinned. "Well, it wasn't a total shutout, now was it, sir? I seem to remember getting in a few good licks myself."

Snape scowled. "You certainly did. You'll be pleased to know that you did her more damage than quite a few Dark Wizards have. "

"So you did," observed Melinda, who had recovered most of her equilibrium. "I noticed a nasty bruise high up on her side, just about in the shape of your shoe bottom. _Dare I hope_ that she was down on the ground when that was inflicted?" At Nick's headshake, Melinda gave him an exasperated glare, leaning in close. "Tell me, Nick---_how_ many times have I warned you and warned you and _warned_ you about those asinine show-off moves you so love?"

To everybody's surprise, Nick didn't flare up or try to assert himself. Instead, he hung his head. "Many, many times, Melinda. That was what threw me---I connected, but I was off-balance enough that she was able to throw me down and start working me over. Before that, I still say I was ahead on points."

Melinda's glare would have melted steel. "Well, hot-dogging may well win you points in a tournament, darling, but on the street, it'll often mean that you come in second in a two-person fight." She leaned closer, till her nose was almost touching Nick's nose. "I'd slap your ears off for being so stupid, but what would be the point? It's not as though you ever use your ears to _listen_ with!" She turned to the others. "I tell him and _tell_ him that showboating will get him racked up, he nods and agrees, and goes right out and does it again! As if brooms weren't dangerous enough!"

Sitting off to one side, Deanna and Caitlin were listening and watching, and trying hard to suppress fits of the giggles.

"Well, Mr. Cleveland, you can say you're more dangerous than many people who are wanted for crimes." Snape commented. He was also trying to suppress a smile. "Part of it, of course, was that spells don't seem to work on you."

"I was wondering about that, Nick," put in Caitlin. "How _did_ that happen? I've checked my wand---" with a wave of her wand, Caitlin put the broken ornaments to rights---"and it's working fine. So what gives?"

Nick smiled proudly and unbuttoned his shirt. Beneath it, he was wearing an Arrows of Chaos amulet on a chain around his neck. "This. It's something I whipped up some time ago. I embedded a permanent _Protego_ spell on it. I daresay that a powerful enough spell would break through, but this is just a prototype."

Intrigued, Caitlin reached out to touch the amulet. "Nick, when you leave school---OUCH!" She dropped it, shaking her bleeding hand. "It _stung_ me!"

Nick nodded, heedless of Snape's grim expression. "Sure did. That means that the guardian spell I put on it works. I rigged it so that any time anybody touched it without my permission, it would sting them good. Sorry 'bout that, but you should have _asked_ me first." He suddenly grinned evilly. "I worked that guardian spell up after my wallet went walkies on me in London one summer."

"I'm glad to hear that you've been getting full value from your education, Mr. Cleveland," intoned Snape. "Because you are going to need it---you are in a lot of trouble!" Nick raised his eyebrows, as the Potions Master went on: "Let me see---skiving out of school---"

"Er, excuse me, sir," Nick put in, "but I never skived out of school. I have Professor Flitwick's permission to leave campus for the weekend." He fished in his hip pocket and came out with a folded sheet of parchment. "Right here, sir."

Snape scanned the parchment. "So---you lied to Professor Flitwick, I see. This gives you permission to leave Hogwarts in order to deal with a family emergency. You're a long way from Whitehaven, Mr. Cleveland, and I happen to know you don't have any other kin in the UK!"

Nick spread his hands. "Hey---look at what it says. I never lied! I said I had to 'leave Hogwarts, to deal with a family emergency.' Well, the _Dursleys_ are a family, and wouldn't you say having your son get the living daylights beaten out of him constitutes an emergency?" He shrugged. "I never specified _which _family, nor did I ever say _what _constitutes 'dealing with a family emergency!' It could just as well mean _causing_ it, now couldn't it, sir?"

Snape looked at Caitlin. Caitlin looked at Snape. Then Snape leaned forward, fixing Nick with a glare that should have dropped him right in his tracks. "I have said before, Mr. Cleveland, that the Sorting Hat made a mistake Sorting you---that you should have been Slytherin. And I stand by that statement. And do you know why?" All of a sudden, Snape straightened up and shouted: "Because I'm the only person _at that whole school_ that has a _prayer _of keeping up with your schemes!"

Caitlin had to agree with him. She was already planning a letter to Nick's mother about his latest escapade, and she made a mental note to apologise humbly to her old housemate. She hadn't believed that a bookish intellectual, such as most Ravenclaws were, could be anything like as devious as a Slytherin. _When he leaves Hogwarts, he's going to be working for me if I have to press-gang him into it,_ thought Caitlin.

"So now you know what I've had to deal with all these years, sir," piped up Melinda. She was obviously trying to smother a grin. "I love Nick dearly, don't get me wrong, but he's so tricky sometimes that I expect him to meet himself coming around a corner one day!"

"You also used magic underage, Mr. Cleveland," Snape pointed out. Nick shook his head.

"Not a bit. My wand's back at Hogwarts. I landed the broom in Hogsmeade and took the Knight Bus, which doesn't count---I looked it up once. I also knew that they'd be looking for me in the skies, but I didn't figure anybody'd think of checking the Knight Bus." Snape rolled his eyes to heaven as though asking the gods to witness what he had to put up with.

"Oh, I give up!" Snape threw his hands into the air. "I'm going back to Hogwarts! And I _will_ have words with Professor Flitwick!" With that, Snape stalked out to the kitchen, very like a cat whose dignity had been damaged.

"He won't get any satisfaction," observed Melinda. She smiled a very knowing smile. "I went to him in the first place because Professor Flitwick's off for the weekend. Do you have any idea what he'd do to someone who interrupted him in mid-debauch?" Caitlin and Deanna's eyes both went very wide. "He's working on something-or-other called the 'Lancre Variations,' which seem to involve him getting up in a costume that'd get him thrown out of the Carnival at Rio, or New Orleans' Mardi Gras." The Ravenclaw girl shuddered theatrically. "The 'Kaiser Bill' helmet with a dildo instead of a spike was bad enough, but the Frankenstein mask, the hip-waders, the ballet tutu, and the whip---it's the stuff of nightmares!"

"But why did you do it, anyway, Nick?" asked Deanna, shaking her head as though to clear it of the images the Ravenclaw girl had evoked. "I mean, you'd never met the Dursleys, and I doubt that you knew about them until very recently. What set you off at them so badly?"

Nick looked down. "It was the frog," he murmured, his voice barely audible. The women looked at each other, puzzled.

"The frog, Nick?" asked Melinda, taking his hand gently. "Whatever do you mean?"

Nick looked up at Melinda. "Well, when I was getting Harry to talk to me about his life so I could write to my mum, I had an experimental quill with me---one that writes down what you're thinking. I'd been testing it out." Deanna and Caitlin exchanged glances. "I forgot it was still on, and when Harry went away, I found out that it had picked up on his thoughts, including a lot of stuff he hadn't told me." The Ravenclaw looked shamefaced for the first time. "When I see Harry, I shall apologise very humbly for invading his privacy that way, but it was honestly not intentional."

"Go on," Melinda said softly. "What's this about a frog?"

"Well, when I saw what had been written down, I looked it over---I'm a Ravenclaw, it's what we do. Apparently those…_Dursleys_---" the Ravenclaw's eyes suddenly blazed with hate, and he sat up straight, looking like he was ready for another fight---"not only couldn't be arsed to _buy_ him any toys, but anything he found for himself, that…that…" English failing him, Nick snarled something in Norwegian that paled Melinda's cheeks. "Forgive me, but this makes me so mad! That so-called _cousin_ of his, that worthless waste of oxygen, made a point of stealing and breaking any toys that poor little Harry could scrounge!" Nick's hands clenched into fists, and he held them together to stop them shaking.

When he had mastered his emotions, Nick went on: "Harry found this stuffed frog once. The sort of thing you get as a prize at a carnival---cheap tat like that. Found it in an alley, or so I gather. He smuggled it home and made it into sort of a teddy bear; he was maybe six years old at the time. Well, this…this _Dudley_ person found it, when he was maybe eight-and-change. One day, at that school they attended, he pulled it out and tore it up on the playground while his filthy friends held Harry back so he couldn't save it!" Caitlin felt sick, and turned her face so that nobody would see the tears that had started in her eyes.

Melinda went very, very pale and still. In a deadly calm voice, she asked: "These Dursleys---where do they live?"

"Just catty-corner from here. Four Privet Drive."

The Chinese girl smiled a cold cruel smile. "I think I may have to have a little _conversation_ with them myself." She flexed her fingers, staring at something only she could see. "I was bullied and tormented by my older cousins when I was little, before I came to Hogwarts, and my mum couldn't be arsed to lift a finger to stop it, because she resented that I had magic while my late younger brother didn't." Her voice was soft and her manner was mild, but there was something there that set alarm bells screaming in Caitlin's subconscious. "I hate bullies. I really, _really hate bullies_. I never go after anybody that I don't see as my equal or superior. Bullying's about as low as it gets, as far as I'm concerned."

"Okay. I can certainly understand that you were angry. Even without being in trouble for skiving out of school, or using magic underage, you're still in hot water. Assault's a crime, you know," said Caitlin, hoping to divert Melinda from the idea of "paying a visit" to the Dursley household. Nick cocked a sardonic eyebrow at her.

"Oh, _am_ I now? 'Fraid not! I looked up those laws years and years ago, just after I came to the UK. Using magic against Muggles, or in their presence, is a big no-no. Good old Muggle-style martial arts, on the other hand, isn't covered by wizard law at all, and _I_ don't come under _Muggle _law!" Caitlin's mouth fell open at the Ravenclaw's audacity. "Wizards handle wizard criminals according to wizard law. Otherwise, there's a whole bunch of people in Azkaban---not to mention Sirius Black, who's currently not in---who'd have good grounds to file writs of _habeas corpus_, and win, on the grounds that they never had so much as a speck of a trial, much less a jury!"

Caitlin gaped at Nick. Melinda's expression went stony. "Tell me, Mrs. Tyler---is this true?" Slowly, the Chinese girl rose to her feet, icy and dignified, her eyes like obsidian. "Is this true? Can wizards in this country be condemned without so much as a trial, much less a confession, such as is required in _civilised _countries?"

Caitlin stared at Melinda as though the Ravenclaw girl had grown another head. "Well---yes, dear. At least, the Ministry changed the rules to allow for that during the Voldemort War." Suddenly, Caitlin narrowed her eyes. "And just what did you mean about _civilised_ countries, dear?"

"In China, and in places that have legal systems influenced by Chinese law, nobody at all can be convicted without a confession," Nick explained. "Melinda's also quite a fan of the jury system, ever since I stupidly started her watching _Rumpole of the Bailey_ one summer."

Melinda was looking at Caitlin as though the Auror was something she'd stepped in on the street. "Come, Nick," she said, icicles dripping from her voice, as she held out her hand. "Let's go back to school. I don't like it here. I think the _feng-shui_ is badly out of whack, and the Five Elements are out of balance."

Levering himself to his feet, Nick took a few experimental steps. "Okay, Melinda, if that's what you want. We can take the Knight Bus."

Once the Ravenclaws were out of the house, Caitlin turned to Deanna. "Is it my imagination, or have I just been snubbed?"

"I think so, Mum. At least she's out of here without doing any major damage. I was terrified when she was so angry about Nick being hurt." Deanna shuddered. "I've come to know her, and I think she may have been at least _trying_ to hold back against Marlie."

"Either that, or she wanted to make Marlie suffer for longer," observed Caitlin. "Her family's very, very old, and the Chinese have made an art-form of torture since the first dynasties."

Deanna suddenly turned pale. "You know, Mum, I just had the most horrible thought."" At her mother's questioning look, she explained: "You know how tricky Nick is by himself. Imagine him teaming up with Fred and George Weasley!" She shuddered. "Thank the gods for small mercies, he normally doesn't have much to do with Gryffindors!"

Caitlin considered that idea. "I think that if they teamed up, all the teachers at that school would be in St. Mungo's mental wards."

When Flitwick returned to school, he found himself faced with a Potions Master who was torn between outrage and amusement. When he had heard the whole story, Flitwick went white, then red, and finally fell into a chair, gasping with laughter.

"Oh, Severus! I have wondered, over the years, how you'd deal with Mr. Cleveland! I never know what he's going to get up to next; he's been a source of sunshine and challenges to me ever since the day he was Sorted!" The tiny Charms professor looked amused at Snape's sour expression. "I know you think he should have been Sorted into your house. He told me, once, that the Hat finally resorted to asking him what he'd do, given a few hours of unsupervised free time, and when he said he'd go read, the Hat put him with me. The choice was Ravenclaw or Slytherin---and I do think that the Hat Sorted him correctly."

"He _has_ said that he isn't ambitious," Snape admitted. "He's all business in the Potions lab, though, and his essays are clear and well-written." Snape smiled. "I'd lay that to his mother's influence; Grace Forrest taught Potions for years before his birth."

"Be that as it may," said Flitwick, dragging them back on to the topic at hand, "we do have to find a way to make it clear to Mr. Cleveland that extra-scholastic vendettas of this sort are not to be pursued. He's lucky he didn't run into Sirius Black, after all."

"It'd have been interesting to see what would have happened if he had," mused Snape. "Did I tell you about his Arrows of Chaos amulet?" Flitwick shook his head, looking puzzled. "He figured out how to make it cast a permanent _Protego_ on him while he wears it---and, to boot, if someone tries to take it without his leave, it'll sting their hand! Caitlin Tyler hurt her hand when she tried to examine it."

The Charms professor's eyes went wide. "Really?" At Snape's nod, Flitwick smiled a very proud smile. "That's my Mr. Cleveland! He's always been one to come up with new applications of spells!" Flitwick looked knowing. "I imagine that Mrs. Tyler has some ideas about recruiting him."

"Be _that_ as it may," Snape said, "we have to come up with _some_ way to put salt on his tail---and make it clear that we don't approve of his didoes."

Flitwick smiled a very predatory smile. "Oh, Severus, I think you will like the idea I just came up with…" As he explained, Snape's eyes grew wide, and so did his grin.

Nick wasn't too surprised to receive a summons to Flitwick's office. As he left the Ravenclaw common-room, he turned to Melinda, who was sitting with Luna, helping her with some homework, and murmured: _"Ave, Caesar, morituri te saluto---ave atque vale!""_

When he arrived, he was surprised to see who was there. Besides Professor Flitwick, he found himself facing Professor Dumbledore. He raised his eyebrows questioningly as he took the seat they indicated.

"We are quite gratified to see that you care enough about Mr. Potter's problems to attempt to resolve them for him," Dumbledore said. "However, we do feel that your solution was not as well-thought-out as we'd expect from a member of your House." Professor Dumbledore looked at Nick very sternly. "You will be pleased to know that Mr. Dursley's prognosis is excellent and that he will be out of the hospital very soon."

"And so, we now come to the question of what to do with _you_, Mr. Cleveland," purred Flitwick. "As you would no doubt point out---at great length, and very eloquently, as one would expect from a member of my House---you haven't broken any school rules, _or _any laws, wizard or Muggle. Nonetheless, we do feel that punishment is in order, if only to emphasise that---extra-scholastic vendettas---of this sort will not be tolerated."

"We _discussed_ taking points from Ravenclaw, but you're well-known not to care much about points," said Dumbledore, looking very innocent.

For the first time, Nick looked worried.

"Since you seem to have more empathy for the less-fortunate than one would expect from a member of your House, we thought that it would be as well to put that to good use," said Dumbledore. "Accordingly, we have come up with a fitting use for all the excess energy and time you seem to have." Smiling unpleasantly, the Headmaster handed Nick a list. "These first-years are having trouble in the classes listed by their names. You will be tutoring them in your spare time; this is your schedule." He smiled wolfishly. "For free."

Nick scanned the list, and paled. "Er---couldn't we compromise? Like, say, a hundred points from Ravenclaw and a bunch of detentions for me, in exchange for _not _getting stuck trying to deal with the Thickie Brigade?"

"Noooo…" Both professors shook their heads. "It wouldn't be a punishment if you didn't dislike it, now would it, Mr. Cleveland?"

Reluctantly, Nick nodded. "You have a point, I must admit, sirs. However, I do see one minor problem with all this…" He looked at the list again. "Actually, more than one."

"And these are?" Both Flitwick and Dumbledore looked very wary.

"First, I'm not a teacher, Head Boy or prefect. That means that I'll be having to deal with this lot, some of whom I know to be chronic goof-offs and practical jokers, without the authority to punish them. I can't take points, or assign detentions!"

The Headmaster and Head of Ravenclaw both grinned and nodded. "That's right. I _thought_ you'd spot that right off!" crowed Flitwick. He leaned forward. "And I should mention that parting their hair with blunt instruments, hexing them, or setting Miss Yang on them will earn you further time on this project. The same goes for threatening to do any of those things."

"So I'm to be a punching bag and spiritual scratching-post for a bunch of firsties?" Nick had gone very pale.

"No. If things get seriously out of control, you may, of course, inform a prefect or teacher, who will assign suitable punishment. That said, we feel that this will help teach you better…_people skills_, I believe is the current term," explained Dumbledore. He leaned back in his chair. "You mentioned more than one problem. What was the other one?"

"Several of these kids need help with Transfiguration. I'm lousy at Transfiguration." Nick spread his hands in puzzlement. "How I scraped an 'E' in that class is one of the mysteries of the universe, as far as I'm concerned."

"Not to me," said Dumbledore. "Professor Flitwick has told me that during your fifth year, the good Miss Yang, in his words, 'grabbed Mr. Cleveland by the scruff of his neck and made him _study systematically _for a change,' which ensured that you did better than you had expected. In any case, going over the basics is a well-known method of ensuring one's own grasp of them is sound." Dumbledore suddenly fixed Nick with a penetrating stare. "Do you have any further questions, Mr. Cleveland?"

Nick met Dumbledore, stare for stare, for a few seconds, as their wills clashed all but audibly---then Nick lowered his eyes and bowed his head, acknowledging defeat. "No, sir. May I leave? I'll need to get started figuring out how to do this. I should talk to these kids, so they know what to expect."

"You may go, Mr. Cleveland." As the door shut behind Nick, Dumbledore turned to a dark corner of the room. "And you may come out now, Madam Cleveland."

"That's _Mrs_. Cleveland, sir, or _Miss Forrest_ if you prefer, or even _Grace_. In North America, the word 'madam' has a slightly different connotation than it does here," said Nick's mother, who had been standing out of sight. She shook her head as she took the seat Nick had been sitting in a moment before. "And now my little Nick's going to be trying his hand at teaching!" She smiled proudly. "Who'd have ever believed it?"

"He'll do well," said Flitwick. "He's been tutoring the younger pupils for a while. We just thought that giving him some of the ones who don't have the motivation to seek him out---and pay his fees---would be a good penance for him." He smiled broadly. "He's also taken Miss Lovegood---his little housemate---under his wing. I honestly wouldn't have done this unless I thought that he'd rise to the occasion and do well at it."

Mrs. Cleveland gave both professors a Look. "And, now that my boy's punishment is in train, perhaps you would like to explain the things that made him go tearing out of here?" She began to idly tap her wand into the palm of her hand. "And I'd better warn you, the explanations I am about to hear for the 'bars-on-the-window incident' and that business about making my old housemate's boy _sleep in a cupboard_ had best be remarkably good!" While her voice was gentle, there was an edge to it, and her expression was distinctly ominous.

A week or so later, Deanna Tyler ran across Melinda Yang. "So---how's Nick? Is he still alive? If I'd done anything like that, Snape'd have skinned me alive and rolled me in itching powder, before cutting me up to make potions ingredients with!"

The Chinese girl rolled her eyes. "He's been given a bunch of firsties to tutor, for free. His mum was around, and she said she's really proud. She was a teacher herself, and I think she always hoped Nick would follow in her footsteps." Melinda grinned conspiratorially. "Nick was telling her about all the things his firsties get up to, and his mum just smirked and said that every mother hopes that her children will live to have children just like them."

"I guess his teachers felt the same way---that they wanted him to have pupils just like he was." Deanna visibly dismissed the subject. "So---when do we spar next?"

"Tomorrow night all right? Nick can't be there, but I've been learning a few new moves. Be there and be surprised!"

"I will!"

THE END


End file.
